


The Unwritten Rule

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathing/Washing, Exhibitionism, Locker Room, M/M, Showers, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exhibitionism and locker room showers go hand in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unwritten Rule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sksdwrld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/gifts).



> Written for the prompt used in the summary for M as part of [Camelot Land's Comment Ficathon #2](http://camelot-land.livejournal.com/29729.html). Warning for a brief but possibly offensive comment regarding a racial stereotype.

The unwritten rule in the locker room is you don't look. You carry out conversations, take the piss out of each other and fight as if everyone is wearing their Sunday best. But Mordred was new on the team and Gwaine was completely shameless, fit as fuck to boot. He just couldn't help but sneak glances and he was sure Gwaine put on a little extra show.

He started with his hair, untying it from the absurdly little ponytail he wore it in to keep it out of his eyes. It was damp with sweat and Gwaine would always have to run his fingers through it before it looked right again. And by _right_ , Mordred meant completely and utterly shagged out.

Then he'd pull his shirt off, even though he didn't strictly need to yet. Holding it in one hand, he'd then walk through the locker room, congratulating everyone on their performance, usually accompanied by a slap on the back or the arse, depending on if it was a win or a lose. Today it was a win.

Mordred turned away when Gwaine approached him, pretending not to see him but really making it easier for Gwaine to get to his arse.

"Nice job today, newbie," Gwaine said, leaning in close to his ear and pinching his arse cheek rather than slapping it like he usually would with the other players.

Mordred turned around altogether too quickly, half ready to jump Gwaine there and then but he covered it, slapping him on the back instead. "How about you then? Definitely _Man of the Match_."

"I try my best," Gwaine said softly, staying close. "But nobody handles the ball like you."

Mordred laughed nervously to keep himself from blushing before he pushed Gwaine away, just to get his hands on that chest. "Stop being a tit and get in the shower. We know how long you like to spend with your hair."

"Perfection can't be rushed," Gwaine said with a wink, making Mordred blush anyway.

Gwaine would then move on, congratulating and flirting with the rest of the team, probably making half of them feel like he made Mordred feel – like the only person in the room.

Finally arriving at his own locker, Gwaine would shove his shirt inside first before raising one foot to the bench. He'd unlace his boot rather than pulling it off like the most of them did. Then after slipping it off, he'd roll down his sock, from knee to ankle before finally pulling that off too. Each bit of Velcro on his shin pads is then lovingly pulled apart before he sets that aside and begins the whole process again with his other leg.

Then, as if by clockwork, the shorts would come off. The rest of the team had converted to those boxer briefs that David Beckham always seemed to be wearing but Gwaine was old-school – at least, that's what he claimed – and stuck with the jockstrap, the white elastic cutting across his perfect lily white Irish arse. And also like clockwork, Mordred would take his shirt off, using it to cover his crotch. _Don't ask, don't tell_ only worked as a policy when raging boners over your teammates didn't speak for themselves.

Unburdening himself of the jockstrap, Gwaine then picks his way slowly back through the locker room, stark, bollock naked, his towel draped around his neck rather than actually covering anything.

Usually that's where it would end for Mordred. He undressed so slowly that most of the guys would be done by the time he made it into the showers. But not today apparently.

"Come on, newbie, I saved you a spot," Gwaine shouted back at him.

To refuse now would draw unwanted attention and questions so Mordred shouted something non-committal back and shucked off the rest of his clothes, wrapping the towel around his waist instead.

Luckily, the idea of everyone seeing him naked was enough to dampen the effect that Gwaine's body had on him. He was the youngest of them all which while that said something wonderful about his skill on the field, it also meant they were all older than him and undoubtably bigger. Arthur, the team captain was a six foot golden boy then there was Leon, taller than that and Percival, he was nigh on a giant. Even Merlin, the lithe goalkeeper was as tall as Arthur. And it wasn't just height, Lancelot was way too exotic looking for a North Londoner and Elyan... well, everyone knew what they said about black cock. And then there was Gwaine. Not only was he built like Micheangelo’s fucking _David_ and well hung to go with it, he was the only one who would walk about the group showers, chatting and borrowing shampoo and soap. When Mordred got to the spot that Gwaine had indeed reserved next to him, he was already rinsing out his hair.

"Take your time, newbie," Gwaine shouted as Mordred dropped his towel on the edge of the showers.

He did his best not to cover himself as he walked through the showers towards Gwaine.

"Couldn't find my shower gel," he lied, holding up the offending product.

"Ah, give us some? I forgot mine," Gwaine asked, holding out a cupped hand.

Mordred obliged, keeping his observation that Gwaine always seemed to forget his shower gel to himself. Perhaps he was just forgetful or he was trying to save money. Mordred couldn't prove he did it as an excuse to draw attention to himself.

"Cheers," Gwaine said, rubbing his hands together before coating his skin in bubbles. He washed like he undressed, luxuriously slowly and managing to draw attention to every gorgeous inch of him. Mordred watched out of the corner of his eye as Gwaine's hands moved over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his back, his thighs before obscenely bending over to wash his calves and feet. Mordred just managed to tear his eyes away before Gwaine stood back up. He'd barely started on himself.

His gaze was drawn again when Gwaine's hands slipped down to his cock. To Mordred's surprise, he was hard, not rushing to hide it either. He languishingly ran his soapy hand over his cock and balls until Mordred couldn't stop himself from staring even if he wanted to.

He was finally snapped out if his pornograhic trance when Gwaine raised his hands up to the water, washing the last of the soap away. Mordred turned so his back was to everyone in the showers, using the excuse of washing to cover his own cock as Gwaine turned his shower off.

"Hey, you know what this means," Gwaine leaned towards him and said. "When I take care of this later, I'll smell like you. Imagine that."

Gwaine slapped his arse with his wet hand and winked, leaving Mordred stunned in his wake, staring at his retreating arse. He bit his lip before he hurriedly turned the shower off.

"Wait up," he shouted after Gwaine. "Maybe I could help you with that?"

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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